


A piece of me, for a piece of you

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Headcanon, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 20:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19092427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: Johnny Cruz has a seriously severe addiction for hoarding, and who is Angel to deny him what he wants?





	A piece of me, for a piece of you

It hadn’t started deliberately.

Mainly, in typical male fashion, he’d just wanted to show off a little and maybe feed a habit he knew he shouldn't have. But he’d never intended for it to become a habit.

They were always roaming around on their bikes, going from A to B, through the motions the way most of the guys in the club did. Naturally, shit always hit the fan eventually, but there was a regularity to their movements that meant that things got boring very quickly. Bishop always had them kicking down doors, giving beatdowns and chasing good for nothing guys down the street. Maybe Coco took advantage of an opportunity to feed his rather peculiar habit.

Hoarding.

Not the type of hoarding you’d see on really late night to early morning television, the kind of programme Angel would sit watching with dead eyes and a lit cigarette, as some middle-aged woman tells everyone she cannot get rid of a single receipt because she holds on to the past. Not that kind of hoarding. The ‘I see something shiny and I take it’ type, where years of marine service had made scrawny little Coco very possessive over his own things and very partial to stealing, or as he worded it, ‘re-purposing’, anything that glimmered enough to catch his eye.

When Angel had first seen one of the drawers Coco had full of the stuff, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Watches, lighters, necklaces, bracelets. Even a candle holder. There seemed to be no particular requirement for the items other than their magpie-esque appeal, being shiny and expensive looking. The irony of Coco, in his small and rather meagrely furnished apartment, having a drawer full of expensive jewellery and items that he could sell for a small fortune, was not lost on Angel.

The first time he hands Coco a silver embossed lighter he’d found on a street dealer; he doesn’t think much of it. He picks up on the way Coco’s eyes seem to track the movement of the lighter in Angel’s hands before he passes it to Coco, Coco’s long fingers twirling around the lighter with an unreadable expression on his face. He’d tucked it in his pocket neatly, thanked Angel quietly, and ever since it’s the only lighter Angel sees Coco use.

On the second occasion, he’d been shaking down one of their rival gangs when he’d caught a particularly shiny gold chain-link bracelet on a guy. He’s not sure why his first instinct is to slide it from the guys wrist and pocket it, but it reminds him instantly of Coco and perhaps he just wants to see the idiot smile when at that time he’d been so weighed down by his relationship with his mother. If taking some idiots ugly bracelet made Coco happy, then it was really no big deal for Angel to give it to him. This time, Coco’s hands rest in Angel’s own when he takes the bracelet into his hands and tests the weight of it, staring at Angel with surprisingly soft eyes as his fingers brush against Angel’s.

Over the years, every single time there was an opportunity for casual thievery, Angel would take money and give most of the other material items he could grab from the person to Coco. Sometimes he’d get three things in one busy week, sometimes he’d go a month with just a lightly scratched watch. But each time Angel gives him something, it’s like he’s getting a little more of Coco back; a smile, a little shy laugh, even the occasional hug in which Coco’s head tucks under Angel’s chin in a way that implies it was made to be there. It’s only after all of those interactions, all of those trinkets and odds and ends, that he asks Coco why he loves hoarding all of this useless shit.

 

_“Coco,” Angel sprawls on Coco’s couch, legs stretched out in front of him, “why the fuck do you keep all of this shit?”_

_Coco sits across from him in the armchair, smoking slowly and regarding him with a curious stare._

_“Why do you care?” He asks, running his cigarette-free hand through his hair carelessly. He looks even more unkempt than usual now, and it makes Angel smile a little._

_“Just curious.” Angel clasps his hands together on his lap, watching the way Coco shifts in his seat with flickering eyes. He’d always reminded Angel of one of those runaway shelter dogs and now was no different._

_“I didn’t have shit when I was younger.” He says, his voice low. “Didn’t get to keep shit either, we were always moving around too much and anything I got my hands on my mum took from me to sell.”_

_Angel glares a little at the mention of Celia, but doesn’t say anything. Coco already knows his opinion, anyway, and he doesn’t need an old wound stretching even further._

_“I just like being able to have this stuff to myself,” he twirls his own gold bracelet around his skinny wrist, eyes following it, “’cuz it’s mine and nobody can take it from me.”_

_Angel smiles, turning into a grin when Coco flings a pillow at him with a huff. “You dare fuckin’ say you’re gonna take any of it back, and I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off, carnal.”_

_“Sure thing, Coco.” Angel slides beside Coco on the armchair, even though there is barely any room for him even with Coco’s skinniness, and Coco quickly moves to accommodate him. It must look ridiculous, the two of them on the armchair with Coco curled up beside Angel, head on his shoulder as he stretches to put his cigarette out._

_It’s moments like these Angel always takes the time to commit to memory. When he can feel the soft tickle of Coco’s hair against his neck, or Coco’s soft and gentle breathing fanning across his shoulder as Coco’s fingers grasp Angel’s shirt as if he’s afraid Angel is going to be taken away in the same way everything in his childhood was._

_“You and me, carin_ _͂o,” Angel murmurs into Coco’s hair, arms around him, “you and me.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so very short and sweet but I couldn't get this idea out of my head?  
> Feedback always appreciated.


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